It's all normal
by jakisbishlygay
Summary: [SLASH]Sam and John deal with the aftermath of Dean's memories of a perfect life. There, I updated the summary, are you happy? blah blah... Beta'd by ailurophile6
1. Chapter 1

Title: It's all normal... (Pt. 1)  
Genre: SLASH, Action?-not sure, there's blood in the beginning, there might be wincest in the future Characters: Dean/OMC, Sam, John, and... Mary Length: Multi-Chapter (so far there is only the one) ch 1. 1057 words Archive: Sure, just tell me where please!  
Short Summary: What would Dean's life be like if that terrible night never happened? I suck at summary's, so, its basically a demon lets Dean see what his life would be like if Mary had never been attacked... blah blah... Beta's by ailurophile6 

Beta'd by the oh so wonderful ailurophile6! (Thank you so much!)

Disclamer: I own nothing. If I did there would be lot's of wrestling... in pudding.

I live off of feedback.

It's all normal…

"DEAN!" John Winchester yelled at the top of his lungs, just as the ancient demon, a demon so old it had no name, dragged his first born son into the corner of the small cave, Dean's unconscious and bleeding form giving the demon no resistance.

John had somehow lost track of Sam, doesn't remember where he is, where he was, and he's grateful because this demon is a mind reader. Like Missouri only more clairvoyant. And just as vague.

"Dad? Dean?" Sam's bellowing voice rang throughout the cave. "Where are you guys? You kill that thing yet?"

John winced at his son's blatant attempt to lure the demon away. Sam wasn't there when they discovered it was a mind reader. The demon, Bob was the name Dean gave him, gave John a toothy grin and dropped Dean's leg. Bob prowled out of the den. Only a few minutes passed by before Sam entered.

"Hey Dad, need some rescuing?" Sam was being cocky, like he hadn't just walked into a trap.

"Get out Sammy, he allowed you to get in here." Sam continued pulling at the shackles that bound his father's wrists, ignoring him. "God damn it Sam, he's a mind reader."

This got Sam's attention, but it was too late, the demon was blocking the only exit. In a vain attempt to hurt the demon, Sam lunged forward. Bob threw him like a doll, like no matter what Sam did, he couldn't be stopped. The demon then picked him up and chained him to the wall opposite his father. Sam was helpless, they were all helpless.

"Fools, thinking you could stop me." The demon's hellish voice somehow managed to be deep and high pitched at the same time, like two people speaking at once through the same mouth. "This one," pointing to Dean with an evil grin spreading across his stone-like face, "is the only one who can harm me." The demon looked pleased at the confused looks coming from the eldest and youngest Winchesters.

Not in the mood to elaborate further, Bob simply moved towards Dean's limp body. "Now that we are all present we may begin." The toothy grin returned. "The first born will be subdued."

John and Sam didn't like the sound of that. "What are you going to do to my son?"

The demon didn't answer; he just picked up Dean and carried him to the center of the room. As the demon began gathering items from a chest underneath one of two torches burning in the den, John noticed that a large ancient looking dagger was among them. He knew Dean would know exactly what the dagger was for; it was just something Dean was good at. The demon took the items and laid them on the floor next to Dean. Taking the nasty looking dagger and a large chalice, he raised the dagger to Dean's chest, using it to cut Dean's shirt. With one pull Dean's shirts and jacket were taken off. Using the dagger once more, the demon cut Dean's chest, carving symbols into him.

"STOP!" But the demon wasn't listening to Sam. "Get away from him!"

Dean's chest was now covered in blood. The demon set his dagger down, moved the chalice to his other hand, and sat Dean up. He let the blood flow into the cup, careful not to miss a single drop. It seemed to take forever for the cup to fill with Dean's warm blood. The demon reached to his left, dropping Dean's top half with a thud, and grabbed some of the items he had placed there moments earlier. Several vials containing liquid that neither Sam nor John could identify were poured into the chalice containing Dean's blood, almost making it overflow. Setting the cup down gently, so as not to spill its precious contents, the demon rose and removed the items he had set down earlier. Picking up the chalice with great care, the demon began to pour its contents into the shape of a circle surrounding Dean.

Taking up the dagger once more, the demon dipped the tip into the remainder of the contents of the cup, and walked towards Dean. A shallow cut was made on Dean's forehead, from one side to the other. As soon as the blade, covered in his blood, touched his forehead, Dean awoke, screaming in sheer agony.

Dean heard the voices of his father and brother yelling, but he couldn't make them out over his own ragged scream. Then an intense red light filled his vision.

Then came nothing…

--------

Beep. Beep.

Dean awoke to the familiar sound of his cell phone receiving a text message. Groggily, he untangled his legs from those of his bed partner's, and reached for his cell phone.

Dean- what time r u coming out?

Dean tried to make his eyes work as he typed his reply in the small keypad, and he wished he'd never gotten rid of his old phone. The keys were bigger. Around 12. Why? Surprise 4 me?

There was a sigh behind him, letting him know that Michael was awake. There was also the hand fondling his ass, which might have been an indication too. Michael moved to straddle Dean's hips, placing his hands on Dean's shoulders and leaning over him to read the small screen. "You are such a Momma's boy."

"Yes and your point being?" When all Dean received was a kiss on the cheek as a reply, he continued.

"Besides, you love my mother as much as I do. Or can you not remember how the two of you talk all morning when we stay there?" Dean was smirking, and he could tell Michael was going to give a sarcastic reply, but it was halted by the beeping of his phone.

Reading the message, Dean rolled over, "She wants us to bring some beer."

"Beer? Dean, Mary may like beer, but I read the damn message over your shoulder, she said wine." Michael snorted at Dean's stubborn look. "You'd better get in the shower, it's 10am already and your highness likes to take his precious time in the shower." Crawling off Dean, after kissing him good morning, morning breath and all, Michael left the bedroom in search of some much needed coffee.

"You gonna join me?" There was no reply.

TBC

Did you like it? gives big lost puppy eyes please review


	2. Part 2?

Title: It's all normal... (Pt. 2?)

Genre: SLASH, Action, cough bloody cough

Characters: Dean/OMC, Sam, John, and... Mary

Length: 1533 words

Short Summary: Dean wakes up... Beta'd by ailurophile6

It's all normal pt. 2?

The Winchester house was just as Dean remembered it. As he and Michael walked up to the porch, Dean was quick to point out some of his childhood memories, telling Michael how he and his mother would sit on the rocking bench on the porch and watch John play with Sam in the front yard. He told Michael how when he was seven he broke his arm falling out of the tall tree next to the dining room window, and how he landed on Sam, giving him a nasty bruise that John never punished him for.

They stopped at the front door long enough for Michael to give Dean a passionate kiss, which made Dean even more giddy, but still didn't stop his shaking. "It's ok, Sam is an adult, you're an adult. Everything is going to be fine. Besides, I don't see the Impala, so he's not here yet." Dean visibly calmed down at Michael's reassuring words.

It took less than a minute from Dean's light knock for Mary's warm smile to emerge. It took even less time for Dean and Michael to be trapped in her arms. Dean's noises of protest were obviously just for show because he soon wrapped his left arm around his mother. Michael got a pinch on the small of his back from his lover, which told him to hug her back as well.

After the familiar greeting, which lasted all the way to the kitchen, John emerged. John's clean-shaven face looked nothing like that of his eldest son. Upon seeing Michael, John smoothly asked the a question, as if he had said it many times before: "aren't you that guy that played the dumb brother on Roseanne?" Michael's only response was to grin while wryly shaking his head. "Why don't you boys take your bags upstairs? Dean, you still remember where your room is, don't you?" John's grin and giddi-ness seemed to be contagious.

With a giggle from deep in her chest, Mary led the boys to the stairs, still hugging them and showering them in light kisses. Dean followed Michael up the stairs to his childhood room. The room was not that of a four-year-old boy, but of an artist who obviously spent most of his free time in it. Paint stained the carpet and on all four walls were mismatched murals ranging from images of childhood puppet shows to AC/DC album covers to portraits of Mary, John, Sam, and Michael. Dropping their bags on the floor, it was evident that the three hour car ride had made them both tired and slightly horny.

Lips collided, enticing moans from deep inside Dean's chest. Teeth lightly scraped wet lips in a playful manner. Hips rocked against each other in an ancient rhythm, like a dance where only the two people in the room knew the steps. Clothes were discarded, allowing hands to roam freely over flesh. Michael's hands found purchase on Dean's ass, pulling him closer and lifting him, only to crash onto Dean's childhood bed.

--------

John and Sam were screaming for Dean to wake up, to snap out of it, for him to do anything but lay there motionless and helpless against the demon's intrusion. But all of their yelling fell on unconscious ears. Their wrists bled from fighting the restraints. Their eyes were dry from never taking them off of the images hovering above Dean, or from Bob walking into the circle to cut more of Dean's flesh.

As the images hovering above Dean became no more than blurs of naked flesh, the sound being made in this projection seemed to be in almost perfect harmony with the screams of the two Winchesters. The projection above Dean seemed to be from Dean's perspective, but at the same time from that of an outsider. The demon alternated between watching the effects of the spell to growling at his prisoners, as if they were disrupting his favorite movie. Bob finally spoke, obviously angry at the constant disruption, especially during what seemed to be his favorite part.

"You cannot reach him. You never will." At John's look of protest, the demon continued. "Do you know why he is the only one here who can stop me?" As the room fell silent, all that could be heard were the breathy moans coming from the image of Dean and his partner. The silent 'I love you' coming from their mouths echoed in the silent room. "He has nothing to lose. You, John Winchester, have the hope of destroying the Demon that killed your wife. Sam has the same hope. Revenge is what drives you. Dean, on the other hand, has only fragments of long ago memories of a loving mother and father. Not of this." The demon pointed at the images.

"Love is not something he knows. To be someone's entire world was something he only knew when Sam was a child who looked up to the one who raised him." The demon's toothy smile seemed to physically beat both Winchesters. "All he really has is the hope that the only two people in his life love him as much as he loves them. He knows that this is nothing more than a dream that will never come true." Sam closed his eyes, a single tear running down his guilt stricken. "If Dean were to truly fight me, he would win. He does not care if he dies, as long as he takes out a demon on the way."

--------

Groaning their completion silently, the two lovers parted as much as Dean's twin bed would allow, Michael rising to get a shirt from his bag to wipe them both up. Dean did not move and silently Michael disappeared. The bed, the room, the house, everything was gone. All that was left was Dean floating in the dark, yet Dean was not alone. Sam reached out and felt his brother's hair, tangling the strands with his fingers. They spoke without words, Dean's expression defiant and defeated, while Sam's was urgent and scared.

Sam was being pulled back, his lone scream of "Dean" echoing in the darkness.

--------

The demon had been watching John, paying no mind to the youngest Winchester's concentration. When he glanced at the image of Dean and his lover but saw only Dean and Sam in a void, he noticed that something was off. Taking quick steps toward Sam, the demon growled and hissed, using the back of his claw-like hand to snap Sam out of his trance. Startled, Sam's attention returned to the demon. The demon didn't care that Sam's psychic intrusions had been stopped, and he continued to hit Sam.

Dean silently woke, his body aching, his mind fuzzy. His skilled hunter's mind brought the situation to life, calling him into action. Grabbing the ceremonial dagger that lay abandoned at his side, Dean leapt to his feet and stabbed the demon in his side. The demon, not expecting this, lost his balance, staggering to the left. Seeing that he had caught Bob off guard, Dean attacked again. Taking no measures to protect himself against the demons flailing arms, Dean was struck several times, but he prevailed, hitting and stabbing as many vulnerable areas as he could find.

Slowly rising to his feet, losing his balance due to blood loss and stiff limbs that felt like they hadn't been moved in hours, Dean brought the dagger to his brother's wrists. Using the dagger to pry off the restraints, he ignored both his brother's and his father's questions regarding his physical and mental state. Finally, Sam was free. He took the dagger from his brother and helped him slowly slide down the cave wall to the soft dirt before working on John's bindings.

After what seemed an eternity, the three hunters were out of the cavern, the demon's body smoldering in flames and holy water. It took all of John and Sam's strength to carefully carry Dean across the mile or so of high desert. Slowly settling Dean into the backseat, leaning him against Sam's open arms, John finally took a deep breath, realizing his son needed medical attention.

--------

It was easy to convince the Emergency Room staff that they had been attacked by some satanic teenagers, because, after all, that's what the police and the papers assumed was happening in their small town. Dean was all patched up, and although the doctors wanted him to stay a few hours longer, Sam telling them that Dean would feel much better as soon as they got out of this town seemed to satisfy them. And that was that, they discharged him and sent him on his way with a month's supply of painkillers and a few weeks' worth of antibiotics.

Straight from the emergency room to the hotel, and no one spoke. John and Sam quickly gathered all their belongings, leaving a groggy Dean in the backseat. Sam grabbed some of the pillows from their room, gently placing them behind Dean to make him more comfortable. Again, no one spoke as they crossed four state lines and checked into a cheap hotel, one they could afford to stay at until all of Dean's wounds healed.

TBC

Please Review, It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy! (And tells me if I should keep going or just give up)


	3. Chapter 3

Its all normal 3?

Sam paced the motel room, occasionally squinting at the peeling wallpaper from the 60's. Dean had been in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes, which was completely normal for Dean and his 'special shower time', except that the events which had taken place twelve days ago made Sam and John nervous about leaving him alone.

It was difficult to find work in the small Iowa town that fit into their unspoken 'Dean is not to be left alone. Ever.' schedule. Sam worked part time, from 12pm to 5pm, at a gas station near their motel. John worked from 2am to 10am at a local retail store stocking shelves. John made sure that their room had a working kitchen, partly to keep down living costs, but mostly so he could spend more time alone with his boys.

Dean only moved when necessary. Cleaning his weapons was something he did on autopilot; it's the same with eating. Sam worries that the man he grew up with, the one that never shut his mouth unless ordered to, was slipping away with every second spent in silence.

John and Sam tried everything they could think of to get Dean to talk, criticizing his taste in music, even quizzing his musical knowledge, but neither earned any type of response. Sam even took him to a strip club, to see if naked flesh could get his mouth working again. The only thing that happened was Dean sitting at the furthest, most dimly lit table looking at the tabletop. Sam thought about bringing him to a gay bar, but didn't know if one existed in the small Iowa town that they were in.

John asked him why in the dream it was Sam who had the Impala and not him. No response. John and Sam both decided to never ask about the dream again after the one and only time they asked about Michael; tears fell from Dean's eyes as he ran into the bathroom to throw up.

John guessed that any questions involving Mary would have an equal reaction, so they were off limits.

It was their usual schedule. John would wake at 1 am, get ready and leave for work, after unwrapping his arms from around Dean's sleeping form., He was always careful not to wake either boy, but sometimes it was obvious Dean was having a nightmare and the only way to make it stop was by gently running his fingers through Dean's thick hair and telling him he was safe.

Sam and Dean would sleep in, Sam always laying on his back with Dean's arms around him so tight that sometimes he awoke with bruises. After work, John would come back to the room and quietly make breakfast for his sons. Sam would wake up, try to get Dean up, which never happened before 10:30, shower, eat, and get dressed. In the 30 minutes before he left for work, he would try to get Dean to talk. But Dean just remained silent.

While Sam was at work, John would try to pretend that everything was as it always was, but it never worked. First he would turn on the TV, tell Dean what happened at work, but Dean would just sit there, either cleaning his knife or looking at a spot just above the TV with a blank expression on his face, eyes looking as if tears would be shed at any moment.

When Sam would get home, John would already have dinner cooking and Dean would just be getting in the shower.

That's where he was now. And like always, he would pace on the lime green shag carpet, waiting for Dean to emerge so they could look at his wounds and see if they were healing properly.

Sam heard the faucet shut off and snapped out of his worry induced state, sitting on the bed like he hadn't just worn down the ugly carpet. It was always in the short minutes between the water turning off and Dean emerging with a towel around his waist, that Sam thinks about both his and Dean's dreams. Somehow, ever since he first entered his brother's spell induced dream, Sam had been seeing Dean's dreams as his own. He saw Dean at the age of nine on Mother's Day: first it's a memory of the demon-induced dream where he and a five year old Sam are making a Mother's Day card out of a pound of glitter and help from a proud faced Dad, then it's what really happened, Dean silently crying himself to sleep in his pillow holding a wrinkled and tear stained picture of the four of them.

There were so many more comparisons in Dean's dreams that Sam couldn't remember half of them. One look at Dean's face when he woke up showed Sam that he remembered them all.

The bathroom doorknob turned and Sam muttered: "finally." The door opened and Dean emerged in nothing but a thin towel around his waist and his head down, like always, as he walked to sit on the edge of the bed next to Sam. John was ready with the first aid kit and, slowly, they dabbed holy water and Neosporin on all his wounds and bandaged them up. The wound across Dean's forehead was now nothing but a faint, slightly pink scar, but John and Sam know it's there.

They ate baked chicken and Pasta Roni with lots of vegetables that night. John made up big helpings for all of them even though he knew Dean would eat only a third of his plate. There's something bothering Sam, well, more than this whole situation, something he cannot figure out by seeing Dean's dreams and something that only lasted less than a second in the original dream. Sam had been biting his lip ever since John had asked Dean about Michael; he knew he shouldn't ask.

"Why were you nervous about seeing me?" John looked confused, as if he was not sure who the question was directed at and Dean was still staring at his plate as he mechanically brought a piece of chicken to his mouth. "Dean, in your dream, when you were coming up to the house with Michael. You, uh, were nervous about seeing me, why?"

John dropped his fork and stared at his youngest son, giving him a look that would scare a werewolf.

To everyone's surprise, even Dean's, Dean answered in a voice that was rough with nonuse and sad in a way that could not be described. "We had a fight a few months before about me scratching the paint on the Impala." The expression of sorrow on Dean's face hadn't changed since he slid to the ground in the cave.

"Why would I be mad about you scratching your car?" Now that Sam had gotten Dean to speak, John stopped sending him his mighty death glare and nodded his head, like an over eager dork, to encourage him to go further.

"It was yours. Dad let me drive it when I was sixteen, then he let you drive it when you were sixteen and you never stopped. I ended up getting some piece of shit Ford that got me from point A to point B."

Sam and John shared an expression of shock and horror mixed into one big look of confusion. When they spoke in unison, the right side of Dean's mouth curved up. "You didn't fight for the Impala? Were you kicked in the head?"

Dean smirked and John and Sam couldn't help smirking with him. "You were a car guy. You took after Dad, even worked in the same garage."

"And you took after your mother," concluded John. The look of pride in John's eyes turned Dean's faint grin into a full smile, perfect straight and shiny white teeth in all their glory. "Your drawings and paintings, she encouraged you."

"The murals in your room were amazing Dean." A slight blush rose on Dean's cheeks as Sam spoke.

"You should have seen the one he did in the dining room when he was 3. Yellow crayon never looked so good." Dean's blush deepened as John continued to reminisce. "Your mother cried when we washed it off. Of course she took three whole rolls of film of it first."

Sam was obviously intrigued. "What was it? And why yellow?"

"I thought that they wouldn't see a giant underwater world on the white wall if I used yellow." Dean's ears felt like they were burning. "I was all out of white."

"He used the white in our bedroom. We didn't notice until we got a new, brighter lamp." John's last statement made all three men chuckle.

Dean's appetite kicked back in as he finished his entire plate, and two more helpings, much to the other's surprise.

When the meal was finished and all the plates lay cleaned and on the counter, the three men sat down on the floor leaning against the bed. The silence was not awkward like before, but calm and comfortable. Sam was again the one who broke the silence.

"So, why so silent for almost two weeks? Were you trying to give Dad and me ulcers?" Sam's question was offhand, not at all like a parent scolding their child, but genuinely curious.

Dean hesitated, biting his lip before speaking. "Well, Samuel, I was kind of processing 26 years of the memories I had before the cave, and the 22 years of memories I got in the cave." Dean looked tired and defeated. And in a small voice, that if his father and brother had not been so close to him now they would have missed, "I didn't mean to make you worry."

The sadness and regret in Dean's voice caused his father's heart to ache. He wrapped his arms around his son, noting that Sam was doing the same.

"I saw your dreams, ." said Sam as he looked at Dean, and was slightly surprised that Dean wasn't shocked. "Do you want to find Michael? Do you remember his last name? We could look him up and…"

Dean cut off Sam's last words with a defeated sounding voice. "He loved someone else, me but not me. Besides, a guy like him, he's too good to be alone, I'm sure he has someone already." Dean paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself, and continued. "What did the demon tell you when I was dreaming?"

Sam bit his lip. Dean noticed. It was John who spoke next. "He said something that scared the shit out of us. He said that the only reason you could defeat him and we couldn't was because we're not as willing to die." Closing his eyes at Dean's guilty look, John continued. "We never realized that you've never been happy. I'm sorry son, I should have made your life a little more normal. That way you could have settled in to the places we went, like Sam, and not have been so ready to leave, like me. I shouldn't have placed your brother's care on your shoulders alone. I should have told you how proud I am of you." John knew he should stop before he let out a sob.

"I'm sorry too. I never realized that I meant so much to you. I knew Dad did, I just assumed you were doing your 'brother' thing with me. I never realized that Dad and I were your whole world." Although Sam was speaking quietly, both Winchesters could easily hear him.

Dean's shoulders slumped down and in a hushed voice he said: "I wish I had never woken up."

"I'm sorry Dean. He was hurting you, I didn't want him to hurt you." Sam's voice was unsure as he spoke, And he refused to look at his brother as he spoke once more. "You knew it was a lie, but you didn't care and I made you come out anyway."

John didn't like his son's last statement, especially the way Dean nodded his head slightly in agreement. Both boys could tell their father was angry by the way his body tensed, causing the atmosphere in the room to become thick and stale.

"I was happy. I knew it was a lie from the beginning, but I didn't care." Tears were silently falling from Dean's green eyes. "Mom was there, and I had Michael. Dad, you were the way you used to be when Mom was alive. And Sam, we argued the same, just about different things, but you never left me. You stormed off, but I never had to worry about something evil grabbing you or never seeing you again."

John wrapped his arms around Dean once more, holding him and realizing that if he were in the same position as Dean he would wish for the same. "I'm sorry son."

And they stayed like that for a long time, John not just holding Dean, but Sam as well, and Sam's arms were around Dean and John while Dean's quiet sobs faded away into the night.

----

All three jumped as the alarm by the bed went off, the one that told John it was time for him to wake up. None of the three men had realized so much time had passed. John slowly roses from his seat on the floor and turned the alarm off before reaching into his pocket and retrieving his cell phone.

Sam and Dean couldn't help but laugh as John called in sick for work, sound effects and all.

"Dad, I don't think you needed to use your knowledge of past demon noises to punctuate that you're sick." said Sam, his face too firm from trying to hold back laughter.

"Actually Sam, those were the noises you used to make when you were a baby." John shifted his focus from Sam to Dean, "Tell me again why you wouldn't let me take him to a priest to get exorcised? Clearly he still needs whatever is possessing him drawn out." Said John. "Sam, CAN YOU HEAR ME? Look, now the demon is making him look like a fish out of water." John grinned as his words were punctuated by Sam opening and closing his mouth faster.

Dean gave up trying to keep himself sitting upright, now he was lying on the floor clutching his tummy while laughing hysterically and trying to breathe. Dean only stopped laughing when Sam grabbed John's phone and called in to say he needed to take care of his sick father.

----

The three Winchester men were climbing into bed, still laughing and teasing. Again Dean seemed somewhat distant, but when John and Sam asked him about it, he shook them off and snuggled even closer to his brother's warm chest, humming slightly as John held him tight.

-----

The sun was shining into the motel room, light gold settling on the faces of the three men occupying one bed. Dean's hair seemed another color altogether as the sun made it shine.

"Someone get up now and close the goddamn shades, it's ruining my beauty sleep." Said Dean, not moving yet clenching his eyes shut so no light could sneak in.

"Get 'em 'erself you big baby." Sam was not moving either.

John, chuckling to himself, rose out of bed and drew the curtains closed. Climbing back into bed, John snuggled closer to his sons, being sure to wrap them both in his tight embrace, noting that they were both fast asleep once more. Placing a gentle kiss behind Dean's left ear, he whispered: "It's good to have you back, my baby boy."

TBC

Feedback makes the shiny _more_ shiny!

Autors Note/Warning: The next chap **will be incest**. I know that there are a few of you who read this series so-far who don't like incest, if thats you, ignore the _TBC_ and pretend it says _End_. Pretty much the only thing you'll miss is the PWP conclusion. -Thanks for reading! - Amanda


End file.
